


The Shape Of Us

by Flatfootmonster



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blind Character, Childhood Sweethearts, M/M, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-19 12:50:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17001987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flatfootmonster/pseuds/Flatfootmonster
Summary: “Mama?”His mum’s eyes switched from the road to the rear-view mirror, gazing at Isak for a few seconds before returning to the road.“Yes, darling?”Isak tugged at his ear for a moment, squirming over the words to use, trying to formulate how he would ask what his brain was trying to know.“You look thoughtful. Is there a question you want to ask?” Her eyes were back in the mirror and Isak latched onto them, nodding.“What is it about?”“Even,” he said. That was a start.





	1. The Nature Of Trees

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm in the midst of BIaS - and I haven't forgotten about it - but I'm currently at parts of the story where lots of smut are occurring, thus it's not so easy to write at work or on my commute, for obvious reasons.... not that I write at work....  
> Anyway, this idea was stuck in my mind and inspired by a super cute pic collection (I'll link when I can find the artist to credit), and I just kinda started yesterday. I didn't want to not put stuff up at the moment, because my writing has slowed down lately.  
> So, here is the thing <3
> 
> Also, I have two kids and I'm still like WTAF age range is this. IDK so... imagine how you wish to!

##  The Nature of Trees

Isak stared at the green-grey blur that passed outside the car window. Well, he had to look through the smudges his fingers had made on the screen first; he was eating crisps and so there were crumbs and grease on his fingers. No matter how many times mama reminded him, he always ended up wiping them on his trousers, or the car seat, or the window. 

The car slowed at a junction and Isak frowned up into the sky. It was blue and clear, just like his friend’s eyes. Something had been bothering him for a while now and he wanted to ask someone, but he didn’t know who. He was too young to understand what he couldn’t work out on his own, and yet old enough to see the effect it had on Even when someone asked if he had seen their red ball, or if he could pass someone that black coat. 

He’d always assumed Even had super powers because how else could you explain the fact he could read not even looking at the page? He just ran his finger along the paper. But as he’d started to observe more, he noticed Even’s books were different. They were plain and bumpy, not like the colourful ones the rest of the kids in Isak’s class read—or just looked at. He thought maybe Even made the stories up, but he decided that wasn’t the answer because there were always deliberate pauses or looks of confusion as his finger went over a line of bumps a few times before understanding bloomed onto his face—then the story continued. 

Even was different from the other kids as well. None of the older ones hung around with the smaller kids as much he did, and he wouldn’t be in the playground playing chase. His lunchtimes and breaks were usually spent in nursery, sat on some pillows and reading to anyone that wanted to listen. Isak  _ always  _ wanted to listen. Whenever he would stumble across the carpet to where Even was, thudding himself down in or around Even’s lap, Isak was always greeted warmly: his name said in a sing-song way before he was asked what story he wanted to hear today.

The car pulled away seeming to jolt another thing in Isak’s mind that he’d picked up on today. When Even looked at him, it wasn’t like how other people did. His gaze would be in Isak’s direction, but it didn’t flitter around like other people’s did. But he would smile just the same, it was a big warm smile, just like how he said Isak’s name. Big and warm seemed to be the two words he knew that just fitted for Even. Isak very much liked him, but his brain was stuck on these things he didn’t understand. 

“Mama?”

His mum’s eyes switched from the road to the rear-view mirror, gazing at Isak for a few seconds before returning to the road.

“Yes, darling?”

Isak tugged at his ear for a moment, squirming over the words to use, trying to formulate how he would ask what his brain was trying to know. 

“You look thoughtful. Is there a question you want to ask?” Her eyes were back in the mirror and Isak latched onto them, nodding.

“What is it about?” 

“Even,” he said. That was a start. 

His mum nodded as she watched the road again, taking another turn. It looked like she knew what he was thinking, his mum would do that a lot—know what he was thinking. Isak thought that might be a super power too. 

“What do you want to know?”

“He’s different,” Isak said. “I don’t think he can see me.” And that was about as much as a conclusion as he could come to about any of the things he’d noticed that were out of place. 

Mama sighed, and Isak knew that sound meant she was going to speak in a slow and important way. She said things this way that Isak was sure made sense, or they would, and he would remember them, but sometimes they were cryptic to him. Like when she said it wasn’t a nice thing to do to ask why the man on the tram smelled funny when he could hear. Surely the man knew he smelled? One day he would get it. 

“We’re all different, Isak. We can all do somethings good and other things not so good. Some things we can’t do at all that others can—remember Aunty Sissel in the wheelchair? That’s because she can’t walk like us.”

Isak looked out of the window again and chewed his bottom lip, working his way over her words. How was Even like his aunt? “He can’t see me—but I can see him?” he asked finally. That was the only thing he could sift from this. 

His mum looked sad now and Isak started to feel bad. Was this something he shouldn’t have asked? But she wasn’t angry… Isak wasn’t sure if he’d been mean asking this. He really wasn’t trying to be mean. 

“His eyes don’t work, baby,” she said softly. 

Isak looked back at her but her focus was all on where she was driving. His eyes didn’t work? How could they not work? He remembered one time they had a fish that died and his mum had tried to explain to him that there was nothing in its little, wet, orange body anymore, all Isak could figure out was that it couldn’t see the world anymore. He was scared now, trying to imagine a world with his eyes closed. Was there anything there if you couldn’t see it?

_ “They don’t work?” _ he repeated in a panic.

She shot a worried look over her shoulder, before she reached between the chairs and squeezed his knee in comfort. “No. They haven’t worked all his life. But he can do everything you can do, he just can’t see. He reads to you every day, doesn’t he? And you like him—Isak, it doesn’t matter.”

He knew she was trying to reassure him now and he realised that before he could feel the lump in his throat that usually came before he got upset. 

“It’s OK if you want to cry,” she said, squeezing his knee before her hand was gone, gripping the steering wheel again. 

But Isak was shaking his head stubbornly, while scrubbing at his eye with the heel of his palm. There was already wetness there. 

“I like him,” Isak found himself saying. The words were difficult to get out and he’d wondered why he’d felt the need to say them, but they made him feel even more sad. His lips pulled down and he could feel his chin tremble. It seemed strange to cry when Even always seemed so happy, but for some reason that thought only made Isak more upset. He wiped his nose with the back of his jumper and sniffed. A tear ran down his cheek. 

“I know you do, and you’ll still like him tomorrow, OK? He will be there and he’ll read to you.”

Isak felt himself nodding, the empty crisp packet was bunched tightly in his small fist. “OK.” Mama was acting like everything would be OK, so it should be. She was always right. 

“Do you want fish fingers or sausages for tea?” 

He was staring out of the window again, and began to toe off his trainers, each falling with a soft thud onto the floor. He always did it, and his mum always huffed when she had to carry him in from the car because it was always too much hassle trying to get his shoes back on. They would usually stay there all night until tomorrow morning, when she would hastily shove them on and they would do a half run to the nursery gate, so they wouldn’t be late. 

Stretching his legs out he pushed his feet flat against the empty passenger seat. She had started to talk about something else and usually when she did that, Isak would stop fretting. But he couldn’t stop thinking about Even moving through the world with the lights turned off. 

Shrugging his shoulders, he found that he didn’t really care what he ate. “I don’t mind,” he murmured, eyes fixed on the blue sky overhead. 

* * *

Isak shifted from one foot to the other, not sure what he should do. Usually when he went to sleep, things that had bothered him wouldn’t really be there in the morning. 

It was a sunny day, so his class were allowed to play in the outside area at lunch— it was still fenced off from the big playground, but they had a sandpit and something that looked like the front end of a ship. There was a mud kitchen too, and a small shed that was filled with books, the doors open and pillows on the wooden planks. There sat Even.

Isak wasn’t sure why this was so difficult, but he should go over; Even was on his own, smiling every now and again at whatever the bumps told his finger tip or when he overheard a conversation between some of Isak’s classmates. A curly haired boy called Jonas was arguing with a fair boy, with a sunburnt nose, called Magnus about which worms were whose. It seemed Magnus may have been stealing Jonas’. 

Taking a deep breath, Isak walked over to the book shed. It wasn’t a long walk and soon he found himself dithering at Even’s side. Frowning, Even looked up at him. 

“Isak?”

Isak looked down at his feet in confusion. If Even’s eyes didn’t work then how did he know it was him? Maybe there were other ways you could see someone. Maybe Even saw him in a different way than anyone else. Or maybe these were more superpowers. Something in Even knowing it was him gave Isak relief. He could see— _ somehow _ . 

“It’s me,” he said, sitting and crossing his legs in front of Even. And there was that big, warm smile again. Big and warm; things were just the same today. 

“Good, I thought maybe you were sick.”

He was shaking his head before he realised that was a silly thing to do if Even couldn’t see him. How many times had he shook his head thinking that Even knew what he was doing? 

“No, I was just slow eating.”

“Sometimes you have to eat slow,” Even said. “Otherwise you’ll make a mess.” He was laughing now, that was big and warm too, but Isak was still dithering. He felt like he should say something, now that he knew. But he didn’t know what to say, and when the silence stretched out a little too long Even reached out a tentative hand until his fingers bumped into Isak’s knee. Then his hand darted back to the book. “You’re quiet.” He said it sadly, and Isak knew that he thought that he’d been left alone. There was that sadness again.

Isak rested his palm on Even’s knee, not really knowing what he was doing. He just wanted to let Even know he was there. “I’m here. I know that you can’t see me.” 

Even’s chin dropped to his chest, now it looked like he didn’t know what to say. “Is that… OK?” he asked, unsure.

“OK?” Isak frowned. Why wouldn’t it be OK? A loud yell from the big playground echoed around the school yard, feet slapped concrete busily. Isak figured the older kids probably left Even alone when it came time to play because he couldn’t play the way they wanted to. Maybe he thought Isak wouldn’t want to sit with him anymore. “I like you,” he said. Isak wasn’t sure how he was supposed to prove that he wasn’t going to run off. He shuffled closer to Even, like he normally would, leaning against his side. 

“I like you too, Isak.” His smile was back, that made Isak feel good. “Do you want to read?” 

Isak shrugged. He didn’t know what he wanted, he just had a lot of questions. “Have you never seen the sky before?”

“No.” Even didn’t seem upset by the question, he leaned back against the wood of the shed wall and Isak went with him. “Mum said I was born like this. I don’t remember  _ seeing.” _ He said that word in a way that made Isak feel like it wasn’t as simple as what he thought it was. 

Isak looked up, small white wisps trailed across the sky. “It’s blue,” he stated.

Even laughed before squeezing his shoulder. “I don’t know what blue looks like.”

Pouting, Isak tried to think of a better way to describe it. “It’s the same as your eyes. And it goes on forever.”

“Forever,” Even repeated.

Isak hummed a yes. “It’s everywhere. Unless you’re inside. Then you can’t see it. There’s clouds, they look like they feel like cotton wool. But wet—mama says it’s where rain lives before it falls.” He grabbed Even’s hand and held it palm up. “And they are all over,” he stated before making dots all over Even’s palm with the tip of his finger. “Like that.”

There was a moment of quiet between them but Even let him have his hand. Then he let out a sigh, like the ones Isak's mum made when she had sat down after a long day with a cup of tea. “That sounds nice.” 

“Blue’s my favourite colour,” Isak added excitedly. He felt like he was making headway and he didn't quite know how to stop. “It makes me feel calm.”

“Well, I'm glad I have some of your favourite colour in me,” he said. Isak was happy about that too because Even was one of his favourite people. So it made sense. 

He was about to ask if they could read but then Even squeezed his hand. “Can you tell me about something else? Tell me about trees.” 

Isak snorted a laugh. “I can't just  _ tell _ you about trees. You have to  _ be  _ a tree.” 

“I do? Show me.” 

“OK,” Isak said. He grabbed the books on Even’s lap and put then to one side. Then he stood, yanking Even along with him. With a laugh, Even followed, stumbling a few steps but trusting in where he was dragged. Isak stopped in the middle of a grassy stretch where the other kids didn't really wander. 

“So what do we do?” Even asked, catching his breath. 

Isak turned to his friend. “You have to put your hands way up high,” he said, and they did it at the same time. “And your fingers are the leaves, you have to wiggle them.” They wiggled their fingers in the air at the same time too, and Isak couldn't help but giggle. Even’s hands reached way higher than his could. 

“Am I doing it right?” 

“You look just like a tree. But-but when the wind moves so does the tree,” Isak said, eyebrows drawing together as he thought. His hands moved to where Even’s arms thrust into the sky and just then he felt the breeze stir his hair, and at the same time stir the leaves in the oak tree that stood in the corner of the playground. He pushed Even’s arms to sway in the direction the wind blew. “Now wiggle your fingers.” And Even did. “ _ Now  _ you're a tree,” Isak stated satisfied.

The breeze died down and so Isak dropped his hands, Even’s arms fell to his side too but he was looking into the air like he was still experiencing the breeze and his brief moment as a tree with all of his senses except sight. 

“I know the trees whisper in the wind, but now I can see it—in my mind. The leaves all waving…” he trailed off sounding mystified but please. He was smiling. 

Isak realised he was smiling too, simply because he'd made Even happy. “I'm smiling too,” he said suddenly, realising Even wouldn't be able to tell. 

Then Even focussed on him. “Can I feel it? Your smile?” 

No one had ever asked to feel Isak's smile before. Could you do that? Curiosity, as much as warmth for his friend, spurred his answer. “You can.” 

Even’s hands moved to Isak's shoulder, his touch was light and his fingers moved delicately up Isak's neck. He couldn't help but giggle because it felt as soft as feathers tickling his skin. 

“Sorry,” Even said, hesitating. 

“It's OK. It feels nice-funny.” 

“OK.” Then his fingers carried on, tracing his jaw and running over his cheeks, thumbs exploring the corners of Isak's mouth to feel the expression he was making. So this was how you felt someone smile? And Even didn't stop there, a fingertip flowed along his eyebrow while another ran down the curve of Isak's nose. Then it was done. 

Isak's skin tinged where Even’s deft fingers had traced. It was nice, it made him feel soft and sleepy, just like when his mum would comb through his hair at night sometimes. 

“Do you like it? My smile?” 

Even grinned wide at the question. “I like your whole face,” he answered in reassurance. But then Isak felt sombre, how many faces had he  _ seen _ in the special way he needed to see them? It felt like a novelty. Now Isak felt like he wanted to reassure. 

“Can I hug you?” 

“Sure,” Even half laughed before he grunted as Isak wrapped himself around his friend and squeezed. Isak liked him better than anyone, apart from mama. 

“Are you my best friend?” Isak asked. 

Even hugged him back. “That would be the best thing ever.” 

 


	2. Flashlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Isak, it's OK,” Even’s voice was always calming, but Isak tried to hold onto the anger. 
> 
> “No, it's not. They are mean. All the time. I hate them,” he seethed. 
> 
> Chris was getting to his feet, the smirk on his face was enough to give Isak back his anger. “It was just a joke, Jesus Christ, Valtersen.” 
> 
> “You're a joke,” Isak hit back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so I'm finding this stupidly easy to write. I have an anxious few days until Wednesday so apparently this is the one thing I can focus on. I need soothing. Evak being in love since they were babies is apparently my ASMR. (Don't panic, there are no big deals here... I'm just your general introverted, mum at Xmas time with a massive wedding to attend which has meant I've completely forgotten about Xmas... and birthdays... and just generally communicating.)
> 
> Enjoy, Becs <3

##  Flashlight 

Isak looked over to the far end of the hall. Even was saying something to his mum, she looked thoughtful for a moment before seemingly giving in. Her hands adjusting his beanie and patted his scarf into his coat, despite Even batting her away after a moment of fretting. She kissed his forehead once and then left, the notes from Even’s teacher clutched in one hand. He stood for a moment on his own and slouched against the wall before drifting down one of the passages that led into the playground, his fingertips grazing over the brick. He'd wait outside. 

Looking to the desk his teacher was sat behind, he saw Miss Faith shaking hands with Magnus’ mum; it was their turn next and he should probably ask now. 

Turning to his mum, he found her engrossed in his maths book, flicking through the pages with a proud expression on her face. “Mum, can Even stay over tonight?” 

Her hands stilled. “Again? Isak, I was talking to Eva's mum about you going over there later. It would help me out, I have an early start tomorrow.” 

“But I was at Eva's Monday,” he complained. 

“She's a nice girl,” his mum countered, as if he was contesting because of that. He wasn't; he liked Eva, but Eva was not his best friend. 

“Even hasn't been over in a week. Please? And we've walked to school together before, I'll remember to lock the door and put the key in the flower pot.  _ Please, mum?” _ Isak tugged on her coat sleeve insistently. He knew he was begging at this point but he didn't care. 

She sighed in exasperation, giving him a long considering look. Her eyes were worn, she was tired but concerned for a reason he couldn't work out. “Have you already said that he could?” 

Isak looked down at his feet and shrugged. 

“ _ Isak,  _ you know you shouldn't do that. You should always ask me first.” 

“I know, and I’m sorry. It’s just he's been busy and I haven't had any study time with him all week.” He looked up at her and gave her his best grin. 

Her apprehension melted away and she smiled back, reaching up to stroke through his hair. “OK. But next time:  _ ask first _ .” 

“I will, thank you mum,” he said, practically bouncing on his toes. She opened her mouth to add something more but was cut off by Miss Faith's voice: taut and clear but kind. 

“Mrs Valtersen, Isak, thank you for coming.” She was gesturing at the now empty seats in front of her table, papers spread out on its pine surface that were covered in all manner of grades and comments.

They took their seats and Isak's teacher began to speak above the din of the room. To either side of them, a line of desks spread out with all the year teachers sat behind, speaking to various parents about how good or bad their kids had been so far. Isak knew the drill, he knew what the report would be. 

“So,” Miss Faith began, after pleasantries had been exchanged. “It's the same as usual. Isak is way beyond expectation in all subjects. His only issue is the boredom, isn't it, Isak?” 

Chewing his lip, he nodded as they both peered at him. “Yeah, I'm getting better at not disrupting. And  _ using my words.”  _ It was a phrase repeated again and again to him. But some of his classmates were annoying, he couldn't be bother to talk to them when all they wanted was to wind him up. 

“It's just he gets things first time around, he doesn't like going over the same things,” his mum put in. 

Miss Faith nodded. She understood; they were all well aware of it. “I know, but the rest of the class need things repeated. So, we just have to work on patience and staying calm. But that's why it's so nice he's friends with Even, it helps a lot.” Miss Faith's smile was warm now. 

Isak looked at his mum. She had the gold cross that dangled from a thin gold chain around her neck between thumb and forefinger, twisting it this way and that—it's what she did when she was worrying over something. Her expression backed up her actions, as she divided an unsure look between Isak and his teacher. 

“Isak, why don't you go and look for Even. He'll be waiting for us, I'm sure,” she said finally, her smile almost convincing. 

He hesitated, wanting to be a part of whatever conversation they were about to have regarding him, but eventually decided against it. Isak could already guess the subject; his mum was stressing over how he would cope when Even moved up to high school in a few months and Isak would be here without his best friend. She'd tiptoed around this before, but he didn't want to talk about it. Plus, he didn't like the thought of Even being sat outside on his own.

Scraping the chair back, he smiled at Miss Faith. “I'll see you tomorrow, Miss.” 

He made his way quickly out of the hall, noticing that they stayed quiet until he was out of earshot. It was irritating being babied like this, and at the same time be didn't want to be reminded that he wouldn't see Even every day in the very near future. That was already something that twisted his stomach more and more as they drew closer to the end of the year. It would be two years until he'd move up. Would Even get different friends? Would he forget about Isak? Would he be OK? 

It wasn't the best thing to be focussed on as he pushed the door open, leading out onto the playground. His breath misted in front of him as he let out a sigh and he shoved his hands deep in his pockets before scanning the dark, concrete landscape. 

It didn't take long before he found Even, sat on their bench beneath the oak. It took him another second before be noticed the dark shape creeping in the shadows at Even’s back. Isak frowned as he began to march across the playground. 

The shape that he knew was Chris—a boy in the upper year—reached Even before Isak did, hand snatching out to grab his hat and pulling it off his head, before he bolted away laughing. Isak didn't know he was running until he was on Chris's heels. He thrust his hands out as hard as he could, hitting the boy on the back with more force than he'd anticipated, and sending him sprawling on the hard ground. Chris rolled around groaning as he clutched his knee to his chest, but Isak had no compassion. The hat lay forgotten near his feet, so Isak quickly grabbed it, his fist clenching around the wool in anger. 

“Fuck you,” he spat out. It was a phrase Isak knew he shouldn't say, one that his mum would probably ground him for, but he didnt care. Isak was tired of the older boys picking on Even when they thought no one would see. They were assholes— that was another word his mum would go crazy over if she heard him say it. 

He stepped forward, the cuss word on the tip of his tongue and his foot wanting nothing more than to kick Chris, despite him being helpless, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“Isak, it's OK,” Even’s voice was always calming, but Isak tried to hold onto the anger. 

“No, it's not. They are mean. All the time. I  _ hate _ them,” he seethed. 

Chris was getting to his feet, the smirk on his face was enough to give Isak back his anger. “It was just a joke, Jesus Christ, Valtersen.” 

“ _ You're _ a joke,” Isak hit back, his nerve to use the word that he'd intended to dying down. 

But Even gripped at his arm, turning him away from Chris. “It's not worth it, OK? They  _ are _ a joke. But there's no point in getting into trouble for them. I'm OK,” Even reassured, his gloved hand finding Isak's cheek and turning his face to him. 

Isak focussed on his best friend, urging as hard as he could to soothe Isak, and his anger began to melt. Somehow Even managed to look into him, despite not having his sight. 

He could hear scraping as Chris got to his feet. “You two are fucking weird,” he muttered, before turning and heading back inside. Isak almost found the want to retaliate again, to tell Chris that  _ he  _ was the weird one but those gentle fingers didn’t relinquish their hold on him. Instead, he began to breathe in tandem with Even. It was fine, they had each other. 

“I’m OK,” Isak reassured as Even’s thumbs stroked over his cheeks. “I’m OK.”

“Good.” 

The door banged against the wall as Chris went inside, but he was replaced by a new set of shoes on the concrete. Isak knew the sound and gait just as well as Even did. His hands fell from Isak’s face, fingers instead finding their grip on Isak’s elbow. 

“Hi Even, everything OK?”

Isak’s mum was looking through her purse for the car keys, her focus was not on the playground. That wasn't unusual now that it was just Isak and her. 

“We’re fine,” Even said as Isak nodded.

She scanned them both quickly and frowned. “You sure?”

Isak hummed. “Yeah, but I’m hungry. What’s for dinner?”

“Lasagne,” she said, her eyes falling to Isak’s hand. “Why have you got Even’s hat?” 

“It just fell off,” Even offered. She looked between them skeptically as Isak reached out to return the hat to its rightful spot, but her hands intercepted him, taking it and fixing it back onto Even’s head instead. Even’s fingers tightened on Isak’s elbow; sometimes he got nervous around her and Isak couldn’t figure out why. 

She smiled. “OK, let's go.” 

* * *

Isak listened closely, laying still in the dark. The click of the hall light was switched and he heard soft footsteps retreat downstairs. She would stay up for an hour or two yet before getting into her own bed. 

A breath rushed out of him as he untensed; the living room door had been closed. Hand slipping from the bed, his fingers found Even’s shoulder easily, the inflatable mattress laid alongside his own bed, and he prodded. It earned him a grunted laugh before fingers closed around his. 

“Come up,” Isak whispered. This was an old routine now. 

There was a pause. “You sure she won't check again?” 

“She only checks twice.” It had been once not so long ago. They'd always shared a bed until there was suddenly a blow up mattress, then his mum had been weirdly adamant that one of them use it. Maybe she was worried they were too big for Isak's single bed, but they never took up much space because they always huddled tightly together. 

Another still moment passed before the rustle of cloth against cloth told Isak that Even was moving. Weight bore down on the side of his mattress. 

“Shift up then.” 

Isak giggled, pushing his back to the cool wall as Even clambered in next to him. Then he brought the duvet over their heads. He liked these moments in the dark together, they were on equal footing. 

Turning to his best friend, Isak's eyes had adjusted enough to see the outline of him. “Whose turn is it?” he asked quietly. 

“I think it's yours.” 

“OK.” Isak reached out of the duvet to the shelf just above his head. His fingers grappled along the wood until he found the two things he needed. Bringing them back into their cocoon, he flicked the switch on the flashlight and blinked, adjusting to the light. “I can't remember what page I was on,” he mumbled as he frowned and flicked through the pages. 

“It doesn't matter just pick anywhere,” Even snickered.

“It  _ does  _ matter,” Isak said.

“Well, fold the corner of the page down when you finish this time.” 

Isak gasped in shock. “I'm not a monster. You can't do  _ that  _ to books.”  

“ _ A monster?” _

“You make the pages all ratty and horrible doing that.” But of course Even had his own books, he didn't use the same as everyone else in the school library.  _ He'd  _ never done break time detention because the books came back falling apart from overuse. 

“I know what to get you for your birthday now.” 

Isak lost focus on the book and looked at Even. “What's that?” He couldn't help the eagerness in his voice. Birthdays were a big deal. 

“Bookmarks,” Even said, trying to hold back a laugh. 

Isak shook his head. “That would be so lame.” 

“Lamer than a painted rock?” he asked, the amusement in his voice clear. 

Slapping at Even’s arm, Isak spluttered. “That was years ago. And I made it myself.” Half of him wanted to go on the offensive and the rest wanted to defend his younger self. “And it wasn't just a rock, his name was—” 

“ _ Is _ Birk. I still have him,” he interrupted. “I never take him out of my book bag.” He smiled, reaching a hand towards Isak and finding his hair easily, stroking through it soothingly. 

Isak reflected the smile, the warmth in the gesture and Even’s words always making up for any teasing he may have done. “Good. It took me a whole day to find the right rock.” 

“The right rock is  _ very  _ important.” 

Isak narrowed his eyes at the continued teasing, but before he could counter, the light spilling from the flashlight dulled and flickered. 

“The batteries are dying,” he muttered before switching the flashlight off and shoving it under his pillow. “I guess it's your turn.” He used it every night to read or study when he should be sleeping, and once the light began dropping, there were only a few minutes left. 

There was a stillness before Even spoke. “It's too warm under here anyway,” he said, pushing the covers away from his head. They didn't need to hide the light that would seep under Isak's bedroom door now. He reached onto the floor, and Isak heard his fingers skating over the carpet until they bumped into his bag. Then the zip was quietly drawn before Even was rolling on to his back with a book in his hand. “I think I remember where I left off.” 

Isak could hear the pages being turned when an idea came to him. “If you teach me Braille then I won't need my flashlight at night.” 

Even turned towards him. “You want me to teach you?” Isak could hear the pleasure in his friends voice and it never had failed to make bubbles burst in his tummy when he made Even happy. 

“Yeah it would be cool.” 

Another pause, Isak could practically feel Even’s grin. “Cool,” he repeated before turning onto his tummy, flattening the book on the pillow. “I'll get some simple books next time, but I'll try to just do basics,” he said. 

“What should I do?” 

Even held out his hand, and Isak placed his own within that safe grip. He positioned Isak's index finger pointing out and then began to run the pad of Isak's digit over sets of bumps, one at a time, and saying in a voice smooth and patient what the markers meant. 

It hadn't taken long for Isak to feel sleepy this way, with comfort so close, the warm fingers on his, and the soft murmured words, his eyelids had grown heavy quickly. But he'd managed to decipher a few words that kept popping up before Even took the story over, and Isak had simply snuggled into his side, relaxing further with every heartbeat. He never slept better than when Even was with him. He'd faded in and out of light sleep until he heard Even’s jaw crack on a yawn, and the book was laid on the floor. Isak smiled as Even turned towards him, arms curling around him. 

“Good night, Isak,” Even whispered into Isak's tumble of curls. 

“Night, best bud,” he replied, it garnered him a soft chuckle that quietened fast. It never took long for Even to fall asleep either. The slow steady rhythm of his chest was like listening to the ocean, Isak thought. He loved the sea. 

Peering up, Isak studied Even’s tranquil features in the dark while fighting the sleep that threatened to settle on him like a heavy winter comforter. He just wanted a few more moments of this peaceful place. Isak couldn't help the way he smiled when he looked at his friend. He reached a hand up to push a soft strand of hair back from Even’s forehead. 

A sudden burst of affection swelled in his chest and he pushed the tip of his nose softly against Even’s. Letting out a huffed sigh of satisfaction, Isak returned to his spot somewhere beneath Even’s chin. He didn't care if they were weird, no one had a friendship like them and that was a  _ good _ thing. It was better than good.


	3. Unfair Advantage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isak snorted. “I don’t care what girls think of my hair.” He wasn’t sure why he needed to state that, but it just seemed to pop out.
> 
> “That’s right, you and Even are surrounded by them and yet neither of you care. Such a strange thing.” She sounded as if laughter was laying behind her words, a bit like how Even spoke sometimes. Isak couldn’t figure out what was funny, but he did latch onto one nuance. Even was surrounded by girls?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't even edit so I'm sorry if there are mistakes...

##  Unfair Advantage 

Isak made it to the top of Even’s road before the rain really started coming down. His feet slapped at the wet tarmac as he bolted up their path, knuckles only rapping twice out of three times that he intended before the door was opened.

Tumbling into the house, he heard Even’s mum laugh softly before he realised it was her that had let him in. The door was closed behind him. 

“Even said you were coming, he’s just down stairs,” she said, a warm hand rubbed at his back as he tried to push back the wet hair that was plastered to his face. “You want some tea?” 

“Sure, thanks  _ mum,”  _ he replied through a grin. 

She rolled her eyes at him, but he always managed to charm her somehow. Besides, she was like a second mum to him, Isak had spent just as much time over here as Even had spent at his over the years. She looked just like him, with blond hair hanging to her shoulders and big blue eyes. But where he was tall, she was short.

“Summer showers come without any warning,” she said, almost to herself. 

Isak hummed an absentminded noise  as he followed her down the hall before she halted at an open door, beyond it were stairs that led down to Even’s room. If Isak didn’t get to spend so much time here, he would be jealous of how much space Even had, in comparison to Isak's room at his mum’s small apartment. They’d arranged it for him, when Even had turned sixteen, gifted him the entire lower level. He even had a shower and a fridge down there, it was beyond cool. 

“Isak is here, bring up a towel,” she called down. 

“OK,” came the muffled reply. 

Hesitating at the stairs, Isak wasn’t sure whether to go straight down or wait upstairs. But he should be polite while Even’s mum was still here, she would usually be dashing around on errands during the week. Isak was used to short and pleasant encounters with her.

“Let me get you something to eat,” she stated, walking into the kitchen. 

He wasn’t sure how much of a choice he had, but it didn’t matter anyway. Isak sat at one of the high stools at the kitchen island while she got some cold meat and cheese from the fridge. 

“I’m not that hungry,” he said just as his stomach rumbled. She looked up at him, a soft snort of laughter exhaled before she replied.

“It’s not putting me out, besides I know you could eat a horse after football.” And that was true, he couldn’t contradict that.

Pulling his long, wet hair over one shoulder, he tried to get the water to drip into his lap, rather than onto the clean tiles. He didn’t want Even to slip. “Maybe I should cut it,” he mused to himself. 

She hummed in something that wasn’t agreement or an argument against. “I love your long hair. But if you want to cut it, cut it. Even likes it too… and I’m sure the girls do. But it’s your body.”

Isak snorted. “I don’t care what girls think of my hair.” He wasn’t sure why he needed to state that, but it just seemed to pop out. 

“That’s right, you and Even are surrounded by them and yet neither of you care. Such a strange thing.” She sounded as if laughter was laying behind her words, a bit like how Even spoke sometimes. Isak couldn’t figure out what was funny, but he did latch onto one nuance. Even was surrounded by girls?

Frowning, Isak focussed on the table top. “Me and Mahdi made a pact to focus on school, rather than girls. Jonas and Magnus have all kinds of trouble because of girls. So,” he shrugged, like that was the answer. Which it was. 

“That’s very smart,” she said sincerely. 

Feet were on the stairs and Isak perked up, ready to shrug the uncomfortable parental conversation. No, it was usually bizarrely comforting; his own mum wouldn’t approach these subjects with him. Not that Isak had wanted her too, but it was avoided like the plague. If Isak had been interested in some kind of relationship, he wouldn’t really know who to talk to about it. Probably Even, he guessed. 

Even leant against the door frame, towel and spare clothes in one hand. “Hey,” he asked the room in general as his mum closed the fridge, specifying her location.

“Hey,” Isak said, gaining Even’s focus. 

Striding across the kitchen, he placed the clothes on the countertop, then his fingers danced along the surface before finding Isak and continued up the damp skin of his arm. He shivered before laughing, and then the towel was draped over his shoulders. 

Even pulled his wet hair back before beginning to dry it. “You’re always so ticklish,” he snorted. 

“Not  _ always _ ,” Isak protested. It was really only Even that made him squirm like that, and that was because his fingers were so delicate. 

Even’s mum was silent while cutting a slice of ham, a contained smile on her face that made Isak frown. But her focus switched to her phone when it buzzed on the table. 

“Sweetheart, I have to go and take a delivery to a venue. The van broke down and the flowers are gonna wilt.” Her phone was pushed into her back pocket. “Can you take over? I was just getting Isak some food.”

Even was nodding before she’d finished. Winding the towel gently around Isak’s hair, he moved easily around the island, knowing by heart where things would be placed. He picked up the cheese slicer and began methodically cutting precise portions from the block his mum had already placed out. Isak would get lost sometimes just watching Even move around, which was intrusive as fuck—he knew. It didn’t seem fair to be able to watch him when Even was unaware of it, but Isak couldn’t help it at times. He cleared his throat, switching his attention to Even’s mum. 

She was swinging a light rain coat on before her eyes settled on Even. “Just be careful of your fingers, OK?”

Even sighed. “Yes, mum.” She had to tiptoe to kiss his cheek, ignoring his exasperation at her worrying.

“You know I would say the same thing to Isak, right Isak?” She’d made her way over to him now and pressed a kiss to his temple too. 

“Yes, mum,” he repeated, smirking at her laughter.

“You two,” she muttered, heading out of the kitchen. “Dad will be back in a few hours,” she said looking over her shoulder. “Isak are you staying over tonight?” Even’s hands stilled for a moment when the question was asked, before moving his hand over the cutting board and picking up the knife for the ham like he hadn’t missed a beat.

“I don’t know,” he said slowly. He wanted to, and he knew he was welcome but he didn’t like the thought of his mum being on her own. 

“Well, you know you’re welcome, love. And I’d say you can borrow clothes, but I don’t think either of you are ever not wearing something that belongs to the other.” 

Even was walking back to Isak with the plate. “We’ll figure it out,” he said.

She paused for a heartbeat. “I’m sure you will. Right, see you soon.” And she was gone. 

Letting out another sigh, Even rested a sure hand on Isak’s shoulder. “You wanna eat downstairs? There’s noone to stop us from eating in bed.”

Isak slid off his stool “Is that even a question?”

* * *

“And then I scored the winning goal. The look on his stupid face,” Isak said smugly. 

He was sprawled on the large bed, head rested in Even’s lap, as his friend was sitting with his back propped against the wall. His fingers were combing gently through Isak’s hair, which was now dry, finding knots to detangle. Isak was pretty sure he’d got them all but he didn’t stop Even, and Even carried on. He wasn’t going to cut his hair, Isak decided. 

“I can imagine he wasn’t pleased,” Even mused.

“Nope, but it serves him right for getting sent off. They always play dirty.” 

Even hummed in agreement before frowning on a thought. “He didn’t hurt you, when you tripped?”

Isak shook his head softly. “No, I’m good. I had my shin pads on.”

“Good.” 

They fell into one of their comfortable silences and Isak found himself studying Even’s face. No amount of guilt would stop him though. He could see his best friend thinking over something and eventually a question would come, but while he waited he could just look at him. Even’s vein was ticking in his throat and it mesmerized Isak.

“You Ok?” Even asked, that half laugh in his voice.

Isak snorted before clearing his throat again. “Of course I am. I’m just… quiet.”

“Quiet?” You, Isak? Fuck, somethings wrong.” The laughter was free now, and as much as Isak wanted to scowl he was grinning too, he loved the way Even laughed.

“OK, I’m tired then,” he amended, trying to sound irritated by being teased.

Even shrugged. “You can sleep here, I’m sure she will be OK.” 

The  _ she _ was obvious. Isak chewed his lip. “I know she will be, I just… it’s not like you. Your mum and dad are together, I’m all she has.”

Even closed his eyes, resting his head against the wall. He looked suddenly wearily. “Your mum will probably be grateful for an evening on her own.”

“Maybe, but she always complains when I’m out.”

“Not always,” Even stated softly. “Just when you’re with me.”

“That’s not true,” Isak asserted, sitting up. He was sure it wasn’t true. Isak grappled for evidence but none was forthcoming. Their friendship had survived the years they were at separate schools, and Even had never replaced him. He’d become popular in high school, and Isak loved that people supported him rather than bully him. They  _ should _ be fine, but this issue with his mum had never gone away and he had no clue how to fix it. Even hardly stayed over anymore because of the mysterious friction. “Why don’t you like her?” he asked. He tried to keep the accusation free from his words, but it was hard when the two people he adored above anyone else didn’t seem to like each other. He was too scared to ask his mum the same question for the answer he would hear.

Even sighed, his hand skirting across the bed linens to find Isak’s. “I don’t have a problem with your mum. She has a problem with me,” he said simply. Isak could tell it made him sad though, it always had. More than sad, it made him hesitate sometimes, when Isak was sure Even was going to say something in a close moment between them both. But he always backed out—like there was a danger in them being too close.

Isak was shaking his head. “I don’t think so,” he said. He wanted to believe she didn’t have something against Even, how could anyone dislike him? 

Shrugging, Even shifted forward. “She doesn’t like you being close to me. But you’ll have to ask her why, Isak.” 

He licked his lips. He knew there was truth in it, but he was trying to deny. Trying to defend the two people you loved was too much for him and his fifteen years. 

Not finding a good enough response, his mind latched onto the thing that had irked him earlier in the kitchen. “Well,  _ your mum _ says you’re surrounded by girls.” It was a jarring change of subject and Isak was baffled at his own conversational logic. Even appeared to agree as he frowned. 

“ _ What _ ?”

Isak scrambled for words as to why this accusation would be something he would bring up. “You gonna start dumping your friends cos you'll be hanging with girls? Maybe that's why you don't stay over.” There. That was an argument handle. Were they arguing? They'd never argued before. 

But Even continued to look confused. “What has that got to do with…  _ anything _ ? You're my best friend.” 

“For now.” 

Even’s mouth was hanging open, now he was somewhere between shock and amused. “You think I'll dump you for a girlfriend? Is that what your saying?” 

“It  _ happens.  _ Jonas got all wrapped up in Eva and Magnus had to get himself a girlfriend to pass the time.” Isak stated. 

Even was openly laughing now. “That's not what happened.” 

“Well, near enough.” 

“ _ I'm _ blind and _ I _ knew Magnus had been after Vilde for years. He was so desperate.  _ Pass the time,”  _ he scoffed before laughing again. 

Isak crossed his arms, feeling stubborn despite not knowing why the fuck he was arguing this. Even had never even mentioned a girl before. His silent deliberation made Even quiet, worry creasing his face, and all Isak could think about was his mouth. Because girls were for kissing, that's all his friends would talk about anyway, and yet the only person he'd ever thought about doing that with was Even; kissing his best friend. The admission was shameful, he could ruin everything with these stupid, persistent  thoughts… and now he was back to staring again. Even reached out towards him, his palm resting on Isak's upper arm gently. 

“What's wrong?” 

Isak jerked away from him. “Nothing,” he grunted. But guilt punched him in the gut as soon as he acted because now Even looked hurt. “It's nothing,” he repeated in a softer tone. “I'm just being stupid.” 

“You're never stupid,” Even replied, sticking up for Isak against his own words. 

“I can be stupid if I  _ want _ to be.” Apparently he still had a firm grip on stubbornness. A smile pulled at his lips as he watched Even grin. 

“I know what you  _ want  _ to be,” he said, and Isak knew from his tone that he was going to be teased in some way. 

“ _ What _ ?” 

Before Isak could react, Even had lunged for him, laughing before his fingers easily found the areas Isak was vulnerable to tickling. They were wrestling on the bed before he knew what had happened, Isak trying to escape Even, while giggling uncontrollably. His stomach began to ache and he couldn't pause long enough to yell at Even to stop. Not that he ever truly wanted him to stop, but this time was different because he'd just been thinking about kissing Even, and now Even’s hands were too comfortable against his skin and Isak was finding it difficult to control his own body. 

“You want to be my girl.” Even was still laughing as he made the joking accusation, but Isak's blood ran cold at his words and the thought he might be discovered, then he would ruin what they had. 

“ _ What _ ?” he stuttered. His body tensing now. 

“My girl. The girl in my life.” 

Isak grabbed the only defence left to him. “I'm not a  _ girl _ .” 

“ _ Boy _ of my life then.” And if Isak could have heard anything over the fear pounding in his ears, he would have heard the question in Even’s voice. If he hadn't had his eyes pressed tightly closed to reality, wishing himself anywhere but here and hoping above all else that he didn't betray himself, he would have seen the earnest expression Even wore. 

“Just  _ stop _ ,” Isak said, his voice almost flat but for the slight tremor of alarm he felt ringing through him, that he was trying his hardest to mask. 

Even did stop, his body still next to Isak's and he could feel his best friend desperately trying to read him. And he didn't blame Even, he couldn't explain his behaviour either. “I don't suppose your mum would be happy about that.” There was something new there, it sounded like disdain to Isak. “A boy and a boy.” 

Isak worked his mouth, fighting for a response. But all he found was a need to defend his mum coupled with the want to hide what he was feeling for his best friend. The phrase that came to his mind was one he'd heard muttered again and again over numerous years of bible meetings. It seemed to fit the purpose. “Well, it isn't natural, is it?” he snapped.

The air turned cold between them and Isak could have sworn something broke in that moment, but he had no idea what. 

Then Even was breathing again, but he was also pushing himself up from the mattress, away from Isak's side. He said nothing more, and Isak felt a painful need for him to argue back, to tell him he was wrong—like Isak knew he was—but Even stayed silent. 

“I'm feeling tired. I might try and sleep.” Even may have been talking to an empty room for the lack of emotion in his voice. He didn't want Isak there. 

Heart hammering in his chest, Isak tried to figure out exactly why Even had turned this cold. Had he figured out Isak liked him in a way he should not? Was he repulsed by it? 

“I thought we were gonna study,” he managed to stammer out.

Even shrugged. “We can do it tomorrow? Or Friday?” His eyes were closed and he laid motionless on the bed. It looked completely done with this, moving on from whatever moment had just occurred and wishing to put it very firmly behind them. 

“Tomorrow is good,” Isak said weakly. He didn't want to go, he wanted to stay with Even but he also felt the need to cry at the way he was being regarded. Even had never ever been anything less than warm towards him, this cold front left him disorientated. Isak felt suddenly alone and his best friend looked unmoved by it all. What had he done? 

The lump forming in his throat forced his decision. He would go now, tomorrow was another day and maybe this was just a one off. 

Shifting off the bed, he tried to find his tongue. “OK, well text me about when is good, or if you wanna come to mine. I don't mind.” 

Even nodded once. Then he frowned before turning away from Isak, giving him his back. “Will do.” 

And, just like being deaf and blind to Even’s reactions on the bed, Isak was too focused on the empty feeling inside of his chest at this perceived rejection to realise that Even’s heart was just as crippled as his own. 

Without saying anything more, Isak left to make his way home through the rain, all the work that Even had done to dry and detangle his hair completely lost. He couldn't see the sky for the grey clouds. 

Tomorrow. Everything would be back to normal tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorrrrrryyyyy (Will fix it, OK?)


	4. Green Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Mum?” Even called out.
> 
> “Living room,” she said. “Isak is in the kitchen.” She tried to mention it casually but her voice was tense.
> 
> Isak could hear Even taking his shoes off and the motion stilled for a second once Isak's name was mentioned before he continued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm dropping both chapters because I'm not a monster. 
> 
> Enjoy. 
> 
> Love, Becs

##  Green Eyes 

The book was open in front of him, but Isak kept following the words of one single line, and with each repetition his frustration mounted that he just couldn't focus enough to do something as god damn basic as reading. 

The clock didn't help. It kept ticking away in the background, echoing around the kitchen like a taunt, letting Isak know he'd been forgotten for yet another second. And he couldn't look at the clock because it was one of those stupid cat ones where the tail swings with each second. For whatever reason its gormless plastic face didn't help Isak with his irritation; the wide, staring eyes were silently mocking. But he hadn't felt calm in months. 

The tomorrow he'd been hoping for hadn't arrived. Even had started bailing on their plans together, hanging around with other people, going to parties that Isak was not invited to. All on purpose. And he didn't even have the decency to pretend like they weren't drifting apart, he was blatant about it. Now Isak felt awkward being here, in Even’s house, waiting in his kitchen like the idiot he was.

If Isak was honest with himself, he knew he'd been dodging arrangements as much as Even had, doing things that he knew Even was aware of, without inviting him. But Isak wasn't trying to be honest with himself, he was trying to be angry. He seemed to be in a constant state of resentment and sadness. His mum kept telling him it was hormones, normal teenage stuff. Isak wanted to tell her that was bullshit. How was any of this normal? 

“You sure you don't want juice? Or maybe a hot drink? It's getting cold out.” 

Isak hadn't even noticed Even’s mum had wandered back into the kitchen. She was busy with invoices in the living room and he'd been frowning at his book too hard to register anything other than his own repetitive, internal goading. Blinking, he looked at her before quickly breaking his gaze away. She kept looking at him with concern practically vibrating from her. There was nothing to be concerned about. 

“No, I'm fine,” he said, absentmindedly scrubbing a hand over his scalp. He kept forgetting he'd shaved his hair off. And she was right, it was cold and he really needed to remember to wear a hat now that his hair was no longer there. It was a new development, he would get used to it.

She paused, Isak could feel her thinking. “It looks smart,” she offered, although it didn't sound convincing. Not that she would think it looked bad. Isak guessed she was more worried about the abrupt change. 

“Thanks.” He didn't necessarily sound like he meant it either, but he hadn't done it to look smart. He hadn't even done it to be practical. If he was going to be honest with himself, Isak knew he'd done it with the intent to hurt one person alone, but Isak wasn't trying to be honest with himself. “It just kept getting in the way.” 

“Well, I'll miss it,” she paused before committing to the words she wanted to say. “Almost as much as I miss having you here.” 

Isak shifted in his seat, not really knowing what to say about the gentle address to his absence over the summer and autumn. He didn't know what to say because what was there to say about it? And yet, here he was, sat waiting for Even who obviously didn't care about their plans. He shouldn't have bothered. Isak figured maybe they could still be friends, but it didn't seem likely. 

“You know when he's gonna be here?” His question was abrupt, but instead of the light scolding that he should have received, Even’s mum just looked sad. 

“He said he was getting a lift. Soon.” 

She dithered for a moment longer before leaving the room, with the bottle of water she'd come in for. Perhaps she was uncomfortable with addressing what Even getting a lift would mean: Sonja. Isak had started noticing the girls that flocked around Even, helping him where he was completely fucking competent—and Even let them. But there was one that mothered him more than the rest, like he was a baby that couldn't take a shit without help on hand.  _ Obviously,  _ Even wanted to be treated that way. 

As if on cue, and twenty-five minutes late, Isak heard a car pull up, a door slammed before there was a brief back and forth of muffled voices outside, then a key was in the lock and the front door opened. 

“Mum?” Even called out. 

“Living room,” she said. “Isak is in the kitchen.” She tried to mention it casually but her voice was tense. 

Isak could hear Even taking his shoes off and the motion stilled for a second once Isak's name was mentioned before he continued. The only word that could be used to describe his walk to the kitchen was reluctant. Isak didn't bother looking up any further than his knees.

“I didn't know you were coming,” he said at the doorway. 

“It's a Tuesday. We study on Tuesdays. Like always.” Isak’s words were clipped. 

Even snorted a laugh. “You haven't come in weeks, I thought you'd just—” he shrugged. “I thought you didn't want to any more.” 

“Didn't want to what? Be friends?” Isak asked hotly. 

“I didn't say that,” Even replied quietly. 

Isak was staring down at his book again, like he could burn through it with his furious glare alone. He was trying not to be angry because it made no sense, or it didn't seem to. Whenever someone asked what was going on between them—why they weren't hanging out—it always seemed impossible to explain. And so it felt impossible for Isak to know how he was supposed to feel. But if he looked at Even right now he would feel guilty, and Isak was adamant that he hadn't done anything wrong. 

“I would’ve text if I couldn't come. Or called. I always do.” 

There was that snort again and Isak could feel the irritation inside of him scratch against his skin like sandpaper. This was  _ not _ funny. “You didn't last week,” he said, moving slowly across the kitchen to take a stool, second from Isak's right. He never sat with distance from Isak, and now Isak found himself scowling at the stool between them, as if it was at fault. 

“I was ill. I wasn't even at school. But you probably didn't notice, surrounded by all your  _ new _ friends.” Isak admitted that now there was a note of spite in his voice. He wasn't doing a good job at masking his feelings.

There was a stillness between them. “What's wrong, Isak?” It was asked with an impatient sigh, like he'd been waiting for Isak to just come out on his own and say it. 

Isak spluttered a sardonic laugh. “Wrong? With me? Nothing. What's wrong with  _ you?” _

“You're angry at me all the time. Like  _ I  _ did something.” The way Even said it made it sound like he believed Isak was at fault, that in fact he was the one who had done something. 

“Well, I haven't done anything. You're the one that was late because you were hanging out with your  _ girlfriend _ .” 

“She's not my—” 

“I don't give a fuck anyway,” Isak cut him off. He didn't. It wasn't the point. Even reached towards him and Isak didn't have time to react, only process the fear he felt at Even finding him out. There was no time to pull away either as fingertips darted toward his ear with the intent of combing through Isak's hair, in that gesture that had always soothed him. Instead of hair, all Even’s fingertips were greeted with was a few millimetres of stubble. His hand shot back just as quickly as Isak sprung from his seat, regret rolling over him in one monstrous wave. Even hadn't touched him in months and he ached to feel those soft, tender touches—at the same time they burned painfully. He couldn't do this, he had to get away.

Even was speechless for a moment before he found something to say. “You’ve changed.” It was said incredulously, and there came the guilt, seeping into Isak's bones. Really, he did know that they were unique, and that Even didn't know anyone like he knew Isak, with his touch, every single day for years. Now his fingers found something in contrast to what they trusted. But this was what Isak had wanted, wasn't it? To show Even that he was different, and that he would grow on his own, if Even didn't want to be by his side. 

And Isak knew he meant just the hair, but the shocked statement felt so much more than that. This  _ hurt _ . Why did it hurt so much? He'd been trying to lash out at Even, that was all, and he couldn't understand now why he would want that in the first place. His best friend. The only person he'd loved, aside from his mum. 

“No,  _ you've _ changed,” he retorted. The guilt and pain made him defensive. “You do things without me, you hang around with people I don't know, you don't remember plans, you'd rather be with girls.” Even opened his mouth to counter him, but Isak was too far into his hot headed rage to stop now, despite it feeling like he was racing a car towards a cliff edge. “You don't want me to be your best friend anymore. Just admit it.” 

Even’s mouth was hanging open; he was speechless. “I've never said that.” 

“But you're not saying that's what you want.”  _ That you want me _ , Isak knew that's what he wanted to say but his tongue wouldn't push the words out. He was scared, feeling that emotion surge in him abruptly was like hitting a brick wall. He needed to get out. 

Even stood from the table, trying to follow where he heard Isak's footsteps retreating. “Isak, where are you going?” 

“Home,” he grunted over his shoulder. “Leave me alone, Even.” His throat tightened on Even’s name, he felt full to bursting with emotion and he didn't want to break down here. What was he doing? What was going on with him? 

Even stopped following him; he heard footsteps halt and a ragged breath leave his friend. Isak should have turned back at that, but he was on a collision course, he couldn't slow down. He heard Even’s mum move from the living room before she began to question what was going on, but Isak was out the door, slamming it on her words. 

It wasn't raining today. It was cold and dark but his cheeks were as wet as that day he'd walked through the summer shower. 

Isak stopped at a park, midway between their houses, because it felt like his chest was collapsing as it heaved with the need to cry. Pulling his hood up, he tried to hide his grief from the world, tried to mute his sobs of pain that seemed to pull at every muscle in his body, making him feel weak. 

He wanted to lay down, lay down and just cry until he could do nothing else but breathe and stare at the skies—dark skies, full of thick clouds. There were no stars. But he needed to get home, if he stopped he was sure he wouldn't get back up. 

* * *

It must have taken him longer than normal to get home because his mum was waiting for him, stalking the hall with anxiety written all over her face. He didn't look at her, he didn't want her to see him like this, he didn't want to speak in case he hurt her too. His mouth couldn't be trusted, just like his heart. 

“Isak, are you ok?” she urged.

He ignored her, eyes fixed on the floor and focussing on just making his way to his bedroom, so he could close the door and be alone with his grief. 

“Isak?” she repeated as he pushed passed her. “Even’s mum called.” 

His head hung lower still. Great. So there was no way of lying now. But he strode forward, the dark and the quiet of the cold night had engulfed him. He'd drowned in the hopeless sky.

“ _ Isak.”  _ She was raising her voice now and fresh anger pricked at him.  _ She was vexed? _ What right did  _ she _ have to feel that way? “Talk to me,” she demanded, pacing up the hall until she'd gripped his elbow. 

But he turned, pulling away from her touch. “So now you want to talk?” His words boomed down the hall. He could raise his voice too. 

Her eyes widened. “You've  _ always _ been able to talk to me.” 

Isak met her gaze, any fucks he had left were now lost. He didn't care if she saw how broken he was. “Really? Is that what you think?” 

Swallowing, she nodded. “Of course. You and Even had an argument. You're upset, can I do anything?” 

He couldn't help but laugh at her, because if he didn't he was going to cry again. “You can go and celebrate if you want.” His fury was swelling again at this false concern. Too little, too late. 

Frowning at him, his mum studied Isak's face like she'd never seen him before. “Why would I celebrate?” But the question was asked in a weak voice, she knew what was coming. 

“This was  _ exactly _ what you wanted, wasn't it? You never liked us being close. You were always trying to make him feel uncomfortable here.” 

Taking a step back, she shook her head. “Not always—” 

Isak grunted another laugh. “ _ See _ ? Why?  _ Why?  _ If it hadn't been for you—” he pulled up short scrubbing his hands across the stubble now covering his scalp. If it hadn't been for her, what would life look like now? Was there any point in dwelling on parallel universes that would simply make him regret the one he was born into?

“I just thought—” She licked her lips, Isak could feel her own self doubt. “I just thought it would be easier for you both… if you weren't so close.” And she met his eyes now, not defiant or sure, but reflecting his own grief. Maybe only now she realised what she had helped break apart by her bigotry. Right now Isak was incapable of feeling for anyone but himself. 

“ _ Easier _ ?” he repeated, his words drenched in disbelief. “Does this look easy to you, mum?” 

“No,” she whispered. 

All Isak could hear was the blood pounding in his ears. What had she known? For how long? And how could she possible see anything wrong with what had been between him and Even? He couldn't admit to himself what he had just ruined with his best friend, let alone admit to his mum what he felt. Whether Even had loved him back or not, it didn't matter anymore. He'd managed to destroy it all with second hand fear spawned from her. 

He turned from her. There was no point in talking over it. He didn't want to see her right now. “I hope you're happy,” he muttered as he grabbed the door handle. 

She began to approach, calling his name again but he closed the door in her face and turned the lock. Her feet stilled outside for a long moment before they retreated slowly. Yet there was still no space in Isak to empathise with his mum.

Knees weak, Isak made his way to the bed in his dark room. He didn't need the light, he didn't need his sight. There was one thing he needed and Even was gone now. 

Slumped on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands, the tears came in waves. Before long he was curled on his side, face to the wall, weeping every single ounce of energy from his body, his fists bunched tightly in damp cotton. Exhaustion was the only thing that made the tears ebb away, and that was quickly followed by restless sleep in a world where there was no sky and he was utterly alone.


	5. Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I thought it would be best to have some distance. There were… differences.”
> 
> Isak's heart began to sink. This sounded exactly like what he'd expected. “Differences? What differences?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOOM. There it is. 
> 
> Becs <3

##  Us 

Two months. Two months of what felt like numb silence. There was nothing outside of his schedule except his room. Isak didn't even have to try and avoid anyone because he couldn't see past the end of his nose, like he was surrounded by a thick and disorientating fog. 

Hours became days, days merged into weeks which rolled into months. There was no beginning or end, just a grey mass of world that he happened to be navigating through on guess work alone. Now Isak figured how it felt to be blind and in a foreign place. No, it was worse than that: he was deaf, dumb and blind without his best friend. 

It was a good thing that he hadn't expected any contact because none came. Isak had prepared himself for that; he'd said a lot of things. Not only that, he'd held anger against Even for months before he'd exploded. No one could be expected to put up with those volatile misdirected emotions, not even best friends. But if Even forgave him, could they just carry on like Isak wasn't completely in love with him? 

Because that's what this was. He was in love with his best friend. There was no other explanation for how he felt this in every fibre of his body. He’d managed to numb the feelings, somehow drawing on the fog around him to smother any emotion that bled to the surface. He thought that he might have this figured, and that he could possibly survive without feeling anything for the rest of his life. His heart did beat, but it seemed to vibrate in a vacant space. Isak was empty. 

He was empty and currently staring out of his bedroom window from his position: laying still on his bed, arms straight by his sides. He could see hand and finger prints clearly on the glass, with the dark grey clouds as a backdrop. His eyes scrutinized the prints to see if he could detect whether they were his own or Even’s. Like the world was trying to tease him, a crack of blue sky appeared between two thick, dull clouds. He wasn't sure when the last time was that he saw the sky— _ really _ saw it. And all he could visualise now were Even’s eyes. The universe was just going to keep reminding him of what he'd lost, wasn't it? 

The thought seemed to snap him into action. He lunged from the bed, grabbing a cardboard box from the top of his wardrobe and dumped the old teddies that had inhabited it out onto the carpet. Placing it on the bed he started to fill it. Isak began to scramble madly around the room, grabbing bookmarks, clothes, postcards—Braille messages punched into them, books and whatever else he could get his hands on that belonged to Even, or that he'd given to Isak. Next would be to clean the room, any evidence that his friend had once been in his life had to go. He couldn't live with the memories of what he'd lost. 

The commotion that he created brought a soft knock to the door. Isak paused. 

“Yes?” 

The door was pushed carefully open, like it might fracture if too much pressure was applied. That was a fair description of their relationship right now—him and his mum. “Isak, what are you doing?” Her wide, brown eyes peered around the door, travelling over him before taking in the box, overflowing with clothes and souvenirs. 

“I'm tidying,” he said simply, before he straightened and stared out the window again. The blue was gone now. He waited for her to go, but she hesitated. 

“Can I help?” It was her favourite phrase at the moment. But there was nothing anyone could do. 

“No.” 

She let out a breath that had been held too long. “Tea then?” 

“No,” he repeated. He heard her mouth open as if to speak, but instead she just cleared her throat and the door was closed again with a click.

So, Isak carried on. He lost himself so thoroughly at pouring through the clothes in his wardrobe, and thumbing through the books on his shelves, that he didn't hear the soft voice that was his mother speaking on the phone down the hall. Nor did he notice when the door buzzer went. The noise that interrupted him, as he stood on his bed scrubbing a cloth across stubborn fingerprints on the window, was another knock on the door. Isak, being in his own focussed and foggy world, assumed it was his mother. 

“ _ What _ ?” he asked abruptly. 

Instead of an answer, the door pushed open. It was only the pause that really tugged at Isak's focus. Dropping the cloth to the sill he sighed and turned, expecting his mum to be standing there with a mug of tea—because she always made one for him even if he said no. But his heart thudded to a halt when his eyes fell on Even. 

Just like that, the defences he'd managed to build over the last two months collapsed or disintegrated, and emotion poured into his chest. On the outside he stayed frozen to the spot, his mouth glued shut. 

“Your mum called. She said… she said I should come over,” he offered hesitantly. His mum had called? Why would she do that? “Are you OK?” 

Isak blinked, trying to swallow down the tumultuous feelings that were rising within him. “No,” he said simply and honestly. 

Even’s chin dropped to his chest. He looked sad and tired. “I've been thinking that I should say sorry—I should have said sorry by now. For making you feel like I didn't want you around. I did—I do.” 

Isak felt weak but he was immobile. Part of him wanted to tell Even that he had no reason to apologise, but another part wanted to know why he’d been pushed away. Isak knew why he'd distanced himself from Even, but his assumptions of why that distance was maintained by his best friend lay in Even knowing how Isak felt and keeping him away because he didn't reciprocate. It was the only thing that made sense, now he just needed to know plainly. “Why though? Why did you… leave me behind?” 

“I could ask you the same thing.” 

“I asked first,” Isak managed to find a string of stubbornness within him that hadn't been washed away by the torrent inside. 

Even grinned for the briefest, sweetest moment before his face was serious again. He took a deep breath. “I thought it would be best to have some distance. There were…  _ differences _ .” 

Isak's heart began to sink. This sounded exactly like what he'd expected. “Differences? What differences?” But he couldn't leave it like that. He needed it in black and white. He wanted to know where he stood so he could get over all of this—if that was possible. 

Even’s eyes were closed tight. “Your mum and you. Thinking what you do.” 

Working his mouth, Isak tried to figure out what he meant. “What do you mean?”

“About boys liking boys. That it's not  _ natural _ .” 

There were many things that sprung to Isak's mind, firstly that he should tell Even he thought that was bullshit, too. But what came out was not a sensible response. “I thought you liked girls?” 

There was a small huff of laughter that seemed to give Isak's heart wings before it dissipated. “Honestly, I thought I was the blind one.” He was shaking his head, sadness falling on him again. 

“You like boys?” Isak was sure that his lungs had stopped working—his chest hurt. 

Even pressed his eyes tightly shut again, visibly steeling himself. “No, Isak. I don't  _ like  _ boys. I love  _ you _ , and I've loved you for about as long as I can remember.” 

Isak was sitting on his bed now, and he wasn't sure when his legs had given in, but there it was. Had he heard Even right? “ _ What?” _ he asked quietly. 

Swallowing, Even opened his mouth again, looking flustered. “I've always loved you as my friend—my best friend. But things changed, and it was harder to be around you. I couldn't stop from being with you, but when you said  _ that _ —that it wasn't natural—I knew I had to keep away. It hurts to be near you now, knowing how you feel. It hasn't gotten any less.” He came to a halt, that ragged breath leaving him again. “So, now you know. And I'm sorry I couldn't be a better friend, but I can't do this.” Even paused for a moment, waiting for whatever he might want to say in return, but when Isak couldn't string words together, he lowered his head again, slipping out of the room he'd only taken one step inside of. 

Isak stared at the door, too many things going on within him to focus on a single thought. He heard Even tread the hall before his mum appeared in his room, looking anxious. 

“What happened?” She said in a rushed voice, looking over her shoulder. 

Isak licked his lips. There was no shame in the truth. “He loves me.” 

She rolled her eyes impatiently. “Of course he does,  _ and _ ?” 

What was he supposed to say, to his mum of all people? “I don't know,” his lips felt numb. 

To his surprise she huffed. “Isak, he's always been more than any friend—or best friend. You both… you connect, not like anyone else. I can see it—that you love him. Do you want to be with him?” She focussed on him now, all seriousness in her gaze. But it was hard to process all of these things, firstly how Even felt, and secondly his mum's support. 

He nodded weakly at first and then more firmly. “I love him.” The words seem to come from somewhere outside of his body but they resonated in his skin. Goosebumps skated over his flesh. 

She stood back from the door and nodded her head in the direction of the hall urgently, but she had a small smile pulling at her lips. “Well, what are you waiting for? Don't let him go.” 

Isak practically jumped from the bed, stumbling on his way passed her, his heart in his throat and bubbles exploding in his stomach. He hadn't even allowed himself to imagine this scenario playing out. 

Even was halfway down the communal hall before Isak flung open the apartment door. His hand was trailing along the wall, Even didn't need to do that here; he knew this building step for step. He was grounding himself, probably as messed up as Isak was feeling. 

“Even!” he called out, watching as his best friend froze mid-step. Then he leant against the wall, still not turning back. Isak was pretty sure he knew exactly how he felt: weak and vulnerable. 

He made his way quickly over before stopping in front of Even. It was a short hall but he was still breathless. For once he didn't know where to look. 

“Don't go,” he stammered. 

Even sighed, his head resting against the wall. “I can't—”

“I don't think it's unnatural,” Isak cut in. 

Hands pressed flat to the wall at his back as Even frowned. “What?” 

“I said it—,” he licked his lips, it was his turn to be brave now. “I said it because I didn't want you to know how I felt. I didn't want to ruin our friendship, I didn't think you would feel the same.” It all came tumbling out of him, and he watched Even sign out relief with each word. Isak only realised then how much those stupid words had cruelly impacted him. It had been a ridiculous thing to say. 

“I thought you were the smart one?” Despite it all, a timid smile was on Even’s lips. Isak swallowed, admiring—not for the first time—how brave Even was. He always had been, and it had been the reason Isak had found his own courage. 

“I can't be smart at  _ everything,” _ he retorted. 

Even snorted a laugh, it eased Isak's muscles. A calm was settling on him that had been absent for months. He licked his lips and now Isak found a place he wanted to rest his eyes. Had Even thought about kissing Isak as much as Isak had thought about kissing him? 

“How—” Even began nervously. “ _ How _ do you feel?” 

Isak edged closer to him, and he visibly tensed at the approach, anticipating whatever Isak intended. But Isak was unsure what his plans were, except to be as close to Even as possible. Usually, it would be him that reached out for Isak, held him, touched him. But his hands were still pressed firmly to the wall, like he was scared to reach out for Isak. 

“I love you,” he said simply. It was frustrating trying to explain it, he'd never used those words before but they didn't feel full enough to express how he felt. “With everything,” he added with a shrug. “I don't think I can survive without you.”  

“You could,” Even put in. Despite Isak's intent, Even still wanted to defend him and his ability to survive alone. 

“I'd be alive, but not…  _ living _ . I've felt so empty,” Isak pushed on. 

“Me too,” Even admitted. He looked close to tears, and just as Isak realised that, a tear streaked down his cheek.

Isak lifted his hand, before holding back. “Can I touch your face?” he asked quietly, suddenly transported back in time, all those years ago, to when Even had asked the very same question. 

“You can,” Even whispered. 

With the words, his thumb brushed gently over Even’s cheek, swiping away the tear. But he didn't stop there, because he'd never allowed himself to feel Even in the way Even felt him. Cupping his face, Isak's thumb ran over his cheek, fingertips skirting around the curve of his ear as Even leant into his touch. The index finger on his free hand traced down an eyebrow before flowing down Even’s nose, watching in fascination as a staggered breath left his mouth. He looked almost pained at feeling Isak touch him. Even had needed to feel him just as much as Isak had ached for the tender caresses he received from those hands still pressed to the wall. Why wasn't Even touching him? Why was he holding back? Then he recalled the last time Even had reached for Isak: hand recoiling like it had been burnt. 

Curling his arms around Even, he closed the distance between them, resting his head on Even’s shoulder, and pushing nose to his neck where the heady rhythm of his pulse beat away. “I haven't changed,” he reassured. “Sorry about the hair, I should have told you. It'll grow—” 

But Isak was cut off, inhaling sharply as Even’s hands wrapped around him, gripping onto him almost too tight. Isak wouldn't have cared if he couldn't breathe, he wouldn't ask Even to stop. His head rested against Isak's, releasing a long held breath before his nose nudged against Isak's hair. 

“You still smell like you,” he murmured. “And you feel like you.” Even’s hands were moving steadily up his back. It was the touch that he'd missed but now there was something else he could feel sparking between those palms and his body: anticipation. “And you  _ always _ sound like you,” he snorted. 

Isak hadn't realised how rapid his breathing had become with every inch Even covered. He should find himself wanting to counter the comment, because he was sure there was some tease in there somehow. But the only thing his brain wanted to do was focus on the senses Even had listed; there was one left. 

His heart was in his throat, palms slick with sweat as the most blissful nerves fizzed from the pit of his stomach all the way to the nape of his neck, goosebumps scaling his skin. All he could think about was kissing Even, his lips tingling with want. Slowly he edged back, dragging the tip of his nose across Even’s cheek until it found itself alongside Even’s nose. Their lips separated by only a few millimetres, as they fed each other air in quick erratic doses. Isak wanted the moment to last forever and, at the same time, come to an abrupt end. Even’s hands made fists in Isak's t-shirt at his waist, balancing on the cliff edge. 

He intended to ask if it was OK, but as his lips parted to form the words, Even darted forward, done with the waiting, his mouth landed gently on Isak's. It was a fleeting kiss before he pulled back, allowing Isak to dictate what happened next. There was no question of what he would do, their bodies and mouths were like magnets, and he chased Even’s lips eagerly, landing on them a little less delicately this time. But then hands were in his hair, urging him closer still, and Isak could only pull air through his nose as his mouth merged with Even’s. His own aching hands sinking into soft hair, needing every part of Even as close to him as was possible. 

And as new as it was, it just seemed so natural. As Even’s tongue ran across his lips, someone cleared their throat, the sound coming from the apartment door that Isak had left open. Their lips parted but neither of them moved a muscle. 

“Boys, you can carry on out here,  _ or  _ you can… be more comfortable inside. I can bring you some tea? It's up to you.” It sounded like the words were spoken through a smile. Was she happy for them? How had everything changed so abruptly? 

A nervous and relieved laugh shot from Even, and Isak felt himself smile. 

“Do you want to?” Isak asked. 

Even nodded. “I do.”

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there will be time stamp which will not be g-rated to follow. 
> 
> IJS. 
> 
> Blame/thank Alt Er Even <3

**Author's Note:**

> Lemme know what ya'll think <3


End file.
